Christmas Lights
by irishcookie
Summary: A series of unconnected Christmas drabbles featuring Klamille. All are inspired by Christmas songs.
1. worth the wait

**Author's Note:** This is the first in a series of unconnected drabbles inspired by songs. I hope you enjoy them!

 **Worth the Wait**

 **Song Inspiration:** _Let it Snow_

All it took was one simple confession: _I have never seen snow in person before_.

Klaus had been baffled (it showed on his face and made her dissolve into laughter). Camille had been quick to remind him that she spent all her life in Louisiana and the Big Easy was not known for its snowstorms.

Within an hour, he had taken steps to correct what he deemed an unforgivable wrong.

Now nestled in a cottage in Lancashire (the Mikaelsons literally own property everywhere), Klaus has discovered that Mother Nature is being a bit stubborn.

Oh there is snow - but it is hardly fresh. In fact, it has lazed around for a few days and become more akin to slush mixed with dirt and rocks. Hardly the idyllic picture he is trying to show her. It is cold enough for more, a fact that she laments as she puts heavy blankets around her shoulders but so far they have seen nothing but sun.

He broods.

Camille is determined to make the best of it. She drags him on walks in the English countryside, and makes him tell her exactly how his family came to own a simple cottage in the woods (thankfully it is a happy story instead of one filled with attempted familicide). She loves the fireplace and spends a great deal of time nestled in front of it with her nose in a book.

Even if she doesn't see snow, this Christmas will be one to remember.

If only Klaus can realize that (instead of gloomily reviewing weather reports).

He paces the length of the cottage one night as she curls herself up in the middle of the bed. She has practically burrowed herself in and he can't help but stop to watch her sleep (it calms him, he realizes). He nearly crawls in beside her but instead catches sight of something instead.

He smiles.

It is snowing - big fat flakes are falling from the sky at a steady rate.

Moving forward, he says her name softly. Her response is to twist herself more tightly into a ball, her eyes screwed shut. He feels a small measure of guilt as he reaches forward, his hand landing on what he assumes is her shoulder.

" _Camille_ , love," he says more earnestly.

She moans but unfolds herself, rolling onto her back. She blinks a few times before looking up at him in the dim light.

"Come with me," he urges, offering her his hand.

Camille is reluctant to leave the warmth of the bed. In fact he practically has to pry it from her. He is also the one who makes sure the hat is snug on her head and that the scarf is wrapped about her neck just right. She is still wiping away the sleep from her eyes as she teeters between being awake and being annoyed.

(he finds it adorable; not something that he will admit aloud lest he push her solidly in the _annoyed_ direction)

There is a rush of cold air when he opens the door and for a moment he thinks she will dive headfirst back into the bed. He takes her hand in his and they leave the warmth of the cottage behind.

It takes her a second or two to realize just why he has dragged her out of bed in the middle of the night. In fact, as she stands there stamping her feet, he gets a taste of unbridled fury on her face (again, absolutely _adorable_ ).

But then a snowflake lands square on her nose.

She narrows her eyes to take a close look at it.

"It's snowing," she breathes, tilting her head upward. Snow falls freely on her face now, one catching in eyelash. She blinks it away and then laughs. "It's _actually_ snowing!" She dances around a little, head still towards the sky.

He watches, knowing that all the frustration of the past few days has been worth it.

She reaches for him, to pull him into her excitement. Her laughter echoes through the trees around them. He decides right then and there that they will always come to Lancashire for Christmas.

(and that he will tell no one that he has danced in the snow)


	2. stuck in my head

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for the lovely replies.

 **Stuck in my head**

 **Song Inspiration:** _Jingle Bells_

"How long do you plan on doing that?"

Camille jolts, her mind being pulled from the snowy hills of the books she is reading. She glances over the top of it to see Klaus watching her from the doorway. There is a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers and he has an eyebrow raised.

"What? Reading?" She knows that she has ignored him for the better part of the afternoon. He is probably contemplating throwing her book in the fire. "I only have a few more pages in the chapter…"

"Not that," he tells her as he moves further into the room. "The _humming._ "

She blinks in confusion. She hasn't even realized.

"I can hear you all over this place, you know?" He gives a small chuckle as her eyes widen (because she has never really considered that reality before - and she hasn't exactly _censored_ herself). He sees the look on her face and it is obvious that his amusement heightens. "I usually don't mind - in fact, when anger threatens to cloud my head, I usually seek you out. There is something so soothing about your voice."

Camille knows she has turned a rather interesting shade of red right now.

"...until today that is," he finished. "I did not realize you could hum one song for more than hour straight."

She makes a face. Humming is usually not a conscious activity for her. It just slips out, inspired by a hint of a song or her mood. She racks her brain and then realizes just what she has been doing. " _Oh._ " Her laughter is part genuine amusement and part absolute mortification. " _Jingle Bells_."

"Yes, Jingle Bells - an insipid song when it was first created and it remains one today."

She glances down, the words on the page suddenly dancing. "I blame the book..." She is reluctant to explain any further, feeling embarrassed to admit that like most women she enjoys a good romance every now and then (she is worried that he will either not understand her need for something frothy amidst all the danger or that he will tease her for it). Still, he is looking at her as if he needs a further explanation. "There was a scene - a sleigh ride. It must have flipped a switch in my brain and before you know it…"

"Jingle Bells," he finishes.

She nods her head.

He finishes the drink and she can practically see the wheels in his mind turning. She debates calling him on it but decides that it is nothing too serious (she knows the difference by now). Besides, she is worried that by engaging him she will be forced to pinpoint the very paragraph in her book that set her off.

(and it is so terribly cheesy that even she cringed a little as she read it)

"I'll behave myself from here on out," she promises.

He merely grins and walks off.

When she emerges from the library twenty minutes later he is nowhere to be found. After searching, she begins to wonder if she has driven him off for the remainder of the evening. He is probably stalking through the Quarter looking for a hint of jazz to scrub the remainder of _Jingle Bells_ from his brain.

She is about to retreat to their room when he strides through the entrance with purpose. She stops on the stairs to give him a questioning look.

He merely outstretches his hand (and that look of devilment is still in his eyes).

She narrows her eyes slightly. She should ignore him and continue right up those stairs. He is clearly up to something and she is not sure she wants to be dragged into it. In fact, there is a rather large bathtub calling her name (if he starts behaving himself, he can come too).

But at the last second, she caves. Perhaps it is the way his mouth curls up at the edges. Or the tilt of his head. Either way, she takes his hand.

Together they leave the Abattoir.

She has time to give him one curious ( _tell me what is going on inside that head of yours_ ) look before her attention is pulled elsewhere.

A horse drawn carriage is waiting for them.

The pieces fall in place and she just shakes her head.

"Not exactly a _sleigh_ ," he drawls. "But then again, New Orleans is not known for its abundance of snow."

Her arms cross over her chest. "All because I hummed _Jingle Bells_."

"For over an hour."

She laughs now and lets him help her into the carriage. A moment later he settles beside her and she moves to let her head rest on his shoulder. Now she is the one with devilment in her eyes.

"So if I start humming the _12 Days of Christmas_ does that mean I get five golden rings?"


	3. in the aftermath

**Author's Note:** Thanks again! Your reviews make me smile! This isn't as Christmas themed as the rest but it involves cuddling!

 **In the Aftermath**

 **Song Inspiration:** _Sleigh Ride_ (specifically "snuggled up together").

There is part of him that feels out of place among her family photos and knickknacks.

He sits on the couch, his fingers drumming on his leg as he waits (he has never been the most patient of people in moments like this).

Even without tapping his vampiric abilities, he can hear the water running in the shower. She seems determined to drain the hot water tank. He can't blame her - she had been shivering and stank of the bayou when he finally caught up with her.

There had been a moment of sharp relief seeing her standing there, hair and clothing plastered to her skin. Her arms had been twisted tightly around her and her teeth were chattering - but she had been in one piece.

Of course that moment had passed quickly and he descended into near panic once more.

He had insisted they go to the Abattoir but she had wanted the familiarity of her apartment and clean clothes. Try as he might, he could not bring himself to argue with her in that moment.

So he sits, waiting (and replaying the night's events over in his head; almost wishing he could murder someone _twice_ ).

When Camille emerges from her bedroom, her hair is still wet but this time she is clean. Her sweater threatens to swallow her whole and she is already reaching for the blanket casually thrown over the end of the couch.

"Better?" he asks, feeling as if a lot hinges on how she answers.

"Better," she tells him quietly.

She doesn't sit like he expects her too. She has had a long day. How she still has the strength to stand is beyond him (but then there are many things about Camille that marvel him). He stays where he is, looking up at her. All the things that need to be said hang in the air for a moment; neither one wants to be the one to break the silence.

Finally, he has to. "You could have been killed."

She takes a deep breath, her shoulders squaring up underneath the blanket. "That was a very real possibility."

"You can't keep…"

"No," she says, her voice curt and echoing throughout the small apartment. Her eyes widen slightly at the sound and she draws a deep breath through her nostrils. "Don't tell me that I have to stay out of it. Don't tell me that I am supposed to hide away for the rest of my life - worse, wait around to be sure that everyone I…" She appears to draw back but then then she stands tall. "... _love_ comes home safely. If I can help, I will. I helped today. Yes, I nearly drowned in the process but I helped. And if tomorrow I woke up to the same situation, I would do it again. Try and stop me." The last few words are thrown like a challenge at his feet.

He can't. More so, he knows he _won't._ He had taken her free will from her when his mind was clouded with ideas of power and revenge, and paid very dearly for that choice. He will never do that to her again. He will, _however_ , do everything he can to ensure that if she decides to dive headfirst into a dangerous situation that she will have him as backup.

(there is something to be said to having an immortal hybrid in your corner)

Her shoulders fall when she realizes he is not going to engage in an argument (he wonders if she is disappointed in some way; if she had been hoping to burn off any remaining negative energy that has built up throughout the day's ordeal).

Perhaps it has no choice but to come out in another fashion.

"You're still shivering," he points out.

Camille tightens her grip on the blanket. "I can't seem to get warm," she admits.

He is no expert but he thinks a hot shower, a sweater and a blanket should do the trick nicely. There is something else going on inside of her. If the situations were reversed she would call him on it, demand that he face the near death experience head on. But he does not have her gift of words.

Instead, he shifts away from the middle of the couch. "Come here." He is voice is soft, almost pleading.

Thankfully, she does not dig her heels in. Instead she sinks into the space he has created. It is easy for him to pull her into his arms, to pull her entire body against is. He can feel her trembling all over and on reflex, his grip on her tightens. In the end, he falls back, taking her with him. She lays on his chest, her head turned. He likes to think she is listening to his heartbeat, grounding herself once more by it.

Slowly but surely, her body is under her control once more. She no longer shivers, instead she relaxes, her full weight coming down on him. He can't help but bring a hand up so his fingers can tangle through her hair. He realizes he needed this too. After everything.

"Are you warm now?" he asks quietly.

"Perfectly so."


	4. extreme measures

**Author's Note:** I will be posting parts 4 and 5 (the last one I wrote this year) tonight. I want to thank those who let me know what they thought. I enjoyed writing these.

 **Extreme Measures**

 **Song Inspiration:** _You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch_

Camille spends the better part of an hour trying to figure out if Klaus is more _Mr. Scrooge_ or _the Grinch_ right now.

On one hand, he has the wealth and strained family relationships of a _Scrooge_ but then again, there is no discernible reason for him to be acting the way he is so that pushes him further towards _Grinch_ territory.

Either way, she is not going to stand for it.

She has given him the morning to brood, and lash out in hopes that it will help dissipate the black cloud that is planted over his head. She realizes now that has been the wrong approach. Although there is merit in letting some work through their dark mood on their own, Klaus tends to let it dig hooks into him so it can grow.

(rookie mistake on her part since she knows how he holds onto things - both good and bad)

She rests against the balcony, watching as Klaus glowers at one of the vampires of the Quarter ( _poor man_ , she wonders if he has drawn the short straw today). Thankfully, Klaus does not inflict physical violence on him. She can remain a quiet observer for now. She knows she has to be crafty if she is going to bring him around. Confronting the issue head on is not the way because he, like many, will just dig his heels in on principle (although if he had struck out she wouldn't have hesitated to step in).

When it is just Klaus pacing the courtyard below, she descends the stairs with a small smile set on her face. He glances in her direction and she sees his shoulders fall just a little - an unconscious response to her presence. _Good_ , she already has an in.

She pretends like she hasn't even witnessed his mini reign of terror. Instead she talks of how wonderful her morning has been, and excited she is that Christmas is just around the corner. He listens dutifully but there is, of course, an edge to his voice. She doesn't mind. She is used to him sounding like a prickly pear.

(and she did go into this knowing it would be a multi-step process)

She holds off from making direct contact just yet. Instead she skirts the outer edges of his boundaries, keeping things focused on the positive. She mentions a tree for Hope, wonders if they should go buy her something extravagant. She gets a sliver of a grin from him at that thought. Finally, when he mentions ( _albeit begrudgingly_ ) a family dinner of some kind, she moves in.

A hand brushes across his shoulder at first. She can feel the hard muscle tense for a brief second but then he relaxes. She leans into him and takes a deep breath, marveling at how he mirrors the movement.

(it is here that she realizes a folly with her plan - being this close to him, it tends to cloud her brain a little, making it hard to focus on the endgame)

She turns a little so that he is facing him now. His hand comes to rest on her hip on its own accord. She takes that as good sign and reaches up to trace her fingers across his face (she likes the feel of his stubble; she won't lie). He is staring at her intently and she briefly loses her train of thought.

When he gives her belt loop a yank to pull her closer, she begins to wonder if she is somehow losing control of this process.

She takes another deep breath, this one to center herself more than for his benefit. She decides to skip a few steps and go directly to the finale before he sucks her into whatever is going on in his head at this very moment.

She surges forth, her mouth catching his by surprise.

Only briefly.

Klaus is quick to react, his arms molding around her tightly and his lips pressing earnestly against hers. She can feel her heartbeat speed up and knows damn well he is listening (probably smugly). She lets go of her plan and fully gives herself over to the kiss, her fingers tangling in the curls at the back of his neck.

When they finally pull apart, Klaus takes a moment to rest his forehead against her. She can feel it now - the calm that has entered the room.

(she guesses she isn't a complete failure)

Klaus keeps his arms around her as he lifts his head. "I wonder," he begins. "Just how far you would have went to _knock some sense into me_."

Camille can't help but roll her eyes. "You'll never know now, huh?"

"Oh, I don't know about that."

And then he grins. _Really grins_.

Upon seeing it, she decides she is firmly _Team Grinch_.


	5. the true meaning

**Author's Note:** Merry Christmas, everyone!

 **The True Meaning**

 **Song Inspiration:** _Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree_

The Mikaelson family, _all of them,_ are going to be under the same roof this Christmas.

Despite his dislike of the holiday, Klaus wants it to be perfect.

(because _all of his family_ is going to attempt to be together)

Like many of his endeavors, he does not tackle it half way. He goes all out, ensuring the Abattoir is spotless before he has it covered in enough decorations to give anyone, even the most heartless among them, a hint of the Christmas spirit (in reality, it is probably more like being run over by a Yuletide bus but he is not to be deterred).

The last thing to be done before Kol and Davina arrive from the opposite side of the world is to put the tree up. He has chosen well - the tallest he could find. After a discussion with Elijah (one neither of them will ever cop to having), he has also chosen the perfect color scheme to ensure that it is the center of attention when the family gathers around it.

He has left both the tree and its trimmings in the capable hands of his decorators and set off to enjoy a well deserved drink at Rousseau's.

When he returns an hour and a half later it is to utter chaos.

His boxes of carefully chosen tree decorations remain untouched, forgotten ( _pushed to the side_ ).

Instead the floor of the courtyard is scattered with tangles of lights, piles of tinsel and... _is that a string of popcorn on the stone table_? The strains of some overplayed Christmas tune practically assaults his ears.

"Try this one!"

It is Hayley who speaks but he cannot pinpoint her. Instead a set of lights fly through the air. Camille pops up from behind a couch and catches them easily. She then disappears once more.

He blinks.

Klaus finally moves from where he has been rooted to the ground, inching closer to the madness. He finds Camille on her hands and knees, wiggling under an end table to plug the set of light in. Despite the rather wonderful view of her backside, he is still taken aback by the entire situation.

She manages to get the plug in and the lights come to life in a myriad of twinkling colors. There is a shout of triumph and then she turns to realize she is not exactly alone. She looks ridiculous seated on the floor, looking up at him with impossibly wide eyes.

"Just what on earth is happening here?" he asks.

His voice must be jarring (more so than the talk of grandma getting hit by a reindeer?) for Hayley and his daughter immediately stick their heads out from behind his _carefully chosen_ Christmas tree.

"Uh…" Camille has her fingers tangled in the light set and she is pulling it towards her as if she is afraid he might engage in tug of war (in truth, the thought has briefly crossed his mind).

It is Hope that comes to her rescue (strong, _fierce_ little Hope). She moves around the couch to stand next to Camille. "We are decorating the tree, Dad." Her tone gives him a hint of what he is in for when she becomes a teenager in a few years.

"I had people assigned to this task, things set aside…"

"Pretty things, yes. But kind of sterile don't you think?" Camille has found her voice again.

He rises to the challenge. "How so?"

"Well, we _could_ put those things on the tree," she began, jerking her head towards his abandoned decorations. "And it would look beautiful. But, storefront window beautiful. Not family beautiful…"

"There is a difference?" He asks, although he already has a rather large hint of what that may be.

"There is," she says firmly.

Hayley is the last to come, standing with her hands on her hips at the end of the couch. "Besides, half the fun of having a tree is decorating it as a family."

Klaus eyes them (three of the most important women in his life) and realizes he will never win any battle. Even if he wants to. Instead he finds his himself reaching out a hand to Camille. She takes it and he deftly pulls her from her position on the floor. She is still clutching the lights as if she is worried that he might snatch them from her.

Instead he smiles.

She returns it.

The next hour is a flurry of activity. Hayley and Camille take charge of the lights, racing like children around the tree in an effort to place them. The results are haphazard at best and he does not need Elijah's critical eye to see the gaps. Still, he does not move to change a thing. Instead he pulls knots out of the tinsel while Hope finishes threading popcorn. He watches with an amused eye as half the popcorn makes its way to her mouth. The resulting strand is shorter than it had planned to be but no one calls Hope out on it.

He has to place Hope on his shoulders so she can add her contribution. This simple act helps hit home just why this is so much better. Each time she giggles, he feels his heart surge. Camille had been right - the other version of the tree, the _perfect one_ , would have none of the love this one will. He is sure that she will point that out to him when they are snuggled in bed later that evening. He will happily let her.

(before finding an inventive way to stop her from talking all together)

Finally the four of them stand there looking up at their masterpiece. It is a bit messy, some ornaments clustered too close together while there are gaps in other places. But he wouldn't change a thing.

"It's missing something," Camille says beside him. He whips his head in her direction, only to find that she has wandered off to his pile of carefully chosen decoration. From it she digs out the star.

He meets her half way and she smiles up at him as she hands him the last minute addition.

Klaus can't help scooping Hope up once more and together they place the star in its rightful place. Hayley plugs it in and Hope claps her hands together. Klaus can feel Camille's hand on his arm and then her head resting against it. He can't resist pulling her closer.

Elijah finds them like that and quickly summarizes what has happened. He looks over the results of their decorating and everyone waits with bated breath. "It's perfect," he declares.

"Yes," Klaus says immediately. "Yes it its."


End file.
